Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(77)

They drove in silence then, both lost in their own thoughts as the white-capped waves of Lake Michigan rolled onto the beach to their right and the twinkling lights of the skyscrapers cut through the coming dusk to their left. Then Franklin giggled in the backseat—undoubtedly it was a scene with the horse—and Michelle was dragged back into the moment.

“I swore that day, I swore then and there,” she breathed, reliving the fear and uncertainty of that instant when she walked through the front door to see what was being done to her mother, “that if I ever had kids they’d never have to live through the kind of childhood I had to live through, an unstable environment created by a drunken mother and exacerbated by an absent father.”

“Shell—”

“Anyway,” she cut him off, still staring out the window, “that’s why I’m such a stickler for Franklin’s schedule. Because I never had one as a child. When I walked through my door each day after school, I never knew what I might find.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he said, and there was genuine regret in his voice.

“I’m sorry it happened to me, too,” she admitted with a shrug. “Maybe if it hadn’t, I would’ve done things differently. Maybe I would have been braver, not so hell bent on trying to create that perfect family…”

He grabbed her hand, his palm warm against her cold fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me about Franklin after Preacher died? After there was no hope of creating that perfect family? That’s the part I just can’t get past, Shell. You had four years.”

“I tried, Jake,” she choked on a sob, refusing to look at him when there were tears standing in her eyes. “I was going to tell you after the funeral, out of respect for Steven, but you left early. And then, when I went to find you, I discovered you’d already transferred to Alpha Platoon, caught a transport OCONUS. You were gone for two years, Jake. For two years nobody knew where you were, so how was I supposed to tell you?”

She turned to him then, her eyes beseeching him to understand.

“But I came back—” he began, and she interrupted him.

“And I sent you a letter begging you to come here.”

He rolled in his lips, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “The letter said nothing about my having a son, Shell.”

“Yeah,” she swallowed, once more facing the window. “I suppose that was a test of sorts. If you’d come, if you’d shown a modicum of interest, I’d planned to tell you.”

“You know why I stayed away,” he growled.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I know now why you stayed away.”

Again they fell into silence, only this time the strain of it was a palpable thing. It stretched between them like the string of a kite caught in the wind, threatening to snap at any moment.

Finally, after several excruciating seconds, Jake ventured quietly, “And after I came here, after I’d explained everything, why didn’t you tell me then?”

She swung to face him, her jaw slung open.

He really didn’t get it, did he?

“Because you’d already proven yourself true to form!” She tossed her hands in the air.

“I’m nothing like your father,” he snarled. “And I’m getting real sick and tired of the comparison. I. Am. Nothing. Like him.”

And for the first time since his arrival, seeing the adamancy and sincerity on his face, she began to wonder if maybe he was right. If maybe she was the one who’d been wrong all along. If maybe her own childhood had blinded her, making her jump to conclusions about men and—

Oh God. The thought was too horrific to bear. Because that would mean she’d wronged him, robbed him of the child he would have protected and cherished and loved and—

Remorse and regret settled heavily in her stomach, making the granola she’d eaten turn to burning acid that scorched her throat.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” she finally whispered. And that didn’t even begin to cover her nearly paralyzing sorrow over the way things had happened, over her role in the way things had happened.

She felt him relax next to her then and wished she could do the same. But her nerves were stretched so tight she was afraid to move, even an inch, for fear she’d completely lose what little control over herself.

“We both made a lot of mistakes,” he sighed. “Mistakes that are hard to forgive, but we’ll manage.”

She didn’t see how—

“And don’t worry,” he continued, his next words like arrows to her heart. “We’ll find a way to work out Franklin’s schedule so that it’s not too hard on you. You’ll see.”

Oh, sure. They’d work it out.

And all it would take was for her to give up her son…





Chapter Sixteen


“Listen up, you greasy piece of shit,” Rock growled, and Vanessa raised a brow, doubting name-calling would get them very far with the wife-beater-wearing guy working the reception desk. “We know this sonofabitch is staying here, and we need his room number. Now!”

Rock shoved a photo of Johnny at the receptionist, whose dull eyes barely glanced at the thing before he switched his cigarillo to the opposite side of his mouth, chewing sullenly.

Rock made a move toward the pistol he kept concealed in his suit-jacket, and she grabbed his arm, sidling up beside him. “Look, sugar,” she said in her gravely smoker’s voice, trying to ignore the sour aroma of body odor that assaulted her nostrils when she leaned in close to the bars protecting the man working the desk. The guy was like the Land that Hygiene Forgot. “We need to find this man. He owes me lots of money. And my new best friend here,” she jerked her head toward Rock, “has agreed to help me get it back. Now,” she winked and licked her lips, “I can make this worth your while.”